I've Always Wanted to Be a Baker
by CuteMochi
Summary: Pantheon decides to visit Morgana's bakery. BakerShipping/Pantheon X Morgana (WARNING: CRACKSHIP) One-shot, maybe two-shot if I get requests.


_Ding!_

The oven magically opened itself, and a dark purple smokey magic filled three pairs of oven mitts which each lifted a tray from the oven, which then shut itself. The mitts proceeded to place the cupcake trasy onto a table that magically made them room temperature, and the vanilla cupcakes in dark brownish black wrappers elevated themselves from the tray onto another table.

Morgana, fully dressed in a white chef's top and hat with a long purple skirt underneath, lifted a piping bag full of vanilla frosting and began to carefully pipe it out onto the cupcakes, forming perfect mounds of swirled frosting onto the tops of the cupcakes. After the cupcakes were frosted, the dark baker then proceeded to carefully place candy red cherries on top of the frosting. Morgana laughed a bit excitedly as she sent a wave of sparkly magic over the cupcakes. The sweet desserts now seemed even more tempting than before. She quickly boxed them and placed the boxes in the "reserved" section underneath the counter.

About an hour or so later, the Sheriff of Piltover walked into the bakery, black sunglasses perched over her dark eyes, her formerly chocolate brown hair now a dark coal, a light blue hat sitting atop it. She had on a light blue crop top and matching skirt with black leather accents, a pair of handcuffs dangling from her belt. Long black boots were laced up her calves. A long, sleek black rifle hung on her back.

"Come to pick up your cupcakes, Officer Cait?" Morgana said from behind the counter. "Nice skin. Can I interest you in some donuts?"

"Very funny," Caitlyn said in her British accent, a slight smile playing on her face. "But today I'm just here for the cupakes."

"Of course," Morgana said, handing her the bag as the sheriff handed over the money due. "No champion can resist these cupcakes, let alone yordles."

"Naturally. Now, I best be going before-"

"Hurry it _up_, Cupcake!" a voice hollered from outside the door. "We don't have all day here! Do you have any idea how far Piltover is?"

"As you can see, Vi is getting quite impatient. Well, catch you later, Morgana."

* * *

The sign flipped itself from "OPEN" to "CLOSED". Morgana gave whatever bakery treats she had left to the Noxian beggars wandering down the streets. Naturally, she made them dig through the trash can to get them. She wiped the glass display with a washcloth and left the glass squeaky clean without a single streak or fingerprint. Taking off her chef's hat and apron, she hung them on a coat rack near the employee's entrance. By employees she meant herself. Sinful Succulence was run by Morgana and Morgana only. And she happened to like it that way. It's not like anyone was asking around for job opportunities. Not everybody could make delicious pastries like she could. Not even her prick of a sister, Kayle. The last time Kayle tried to make a batch of cookies with magic she accidentally turned them into angry gingerbread men. It was pure talent with a touch of magic. It was no easy task to handle. Morgana left the bakery for the day, heading to the place she decided to call home ever since she had becen branded a fallen angel.

* * *

The bell at the bakery's door dinged as a tall, masked man walked in, not seeming to particularly search for anything. He wore traditional Greek war clothes, and a spear and shield were strapped to his back. He walked over to the display of desserts, his eyes scanning the succulent confections inside.

"Hmmm," he said, as if in deep thought. "I've always wanted to be a baker."

"Can I help you, Pantheon?" Morgana asked, her plum purple fingernails drumming the countertop. He seemed a bit startled, as he did not see her there, but quickly composed himself.

He looked up, but she could only see his eyes through the feathered helmet. "Actually, um, I was wondering if..."

A long awkward silence followed.

"If?" Morgana asked agitatedly.

"Do you have any job opportunities available?" He blurted out.

The dark angel laughed. "Job opportunities? 'Fraid not. This bakery's a one-woman business."

Pantheon invisibly frowned. "I see."

"Well, if you're interested, I baked up a fresh batch of macarons," she said. "I'm feeling generous today so I'll let you have a little sample." As if on cue, a large platter of macarons floated towards the glass display, which opened itself, and then tilted to carefully slide the cookies onto the fancy display plate. Morgana plucked one from the batch and handed it to Pantheon. He thanked her and bit into the colorful sandwich-like cookie. His eyes widened in amazement.

"This is absolutely amazing!" he said.

"Yes, yes, how many would you like to go?"

He chomped into it again. "I must have the recipe."

Morgana laughed. "Have it? 'Fraid not. You see, this recipe has been, well, passed down through the generations of my family's kitchen. Of course, I perfected it, and no one else's seen the recipe but me. Don't you think it'd be foolish to give it away just like that?" she snapped her fingers sharply.

Pantheon frowned. "I see."

"Well, feel free to come in and browse again, seeing as I won't be on the Fields of Justice for another week."

"I'll drop by," he said. He glanced back at the macarons. "Actually, I'll take four to go."

The baker conjured a shroud of purple magic that drifted over the macarons, caging four of them in the smokey cloud and then transforming into a box around the cookies.

Pantheon handed over the money due and Morgana gave him the box.

"Thank you. I'll come by again soon," he said, turning around to leave.

"See you then," Morgana replied.

* * *

Pantheon was at home, enjoying the deliciousness of the pink macarons with a tart raspberry filling.

"It would be nice to work there," he thought. "I've always wanted to be a baker."


End file.
